


The Word Is With God (And Becky)

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Character of Faith, Choices, Communication, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Free Will, Gods, Heaven, Internet, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck manages to prompt Becky into uncovering his heavenly identity. She's already happily made her possibly-extraordinary choice. She continues to surprise him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Word Is With God (And Becky)

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Chuck's apparent real identity as alluded to in the season five finale. Set during season five.

Chuck’s computer was old. Really old. A classic, he insisted, that he was never going to replace. He'd written his first successful novel on it. And it kept on going, despite its age and the many hells he'd put it through. Funny how that had happened. Chuck had always thought it was funny, and lucky. He'd spilled so much booze on it - among other things - and his house had gotten rocked by archangels and yet, the computer kept on working. That was unbelievably lucky.

 

Yeah, lucky. That wasn't the right word anymore.

 

It had been several months since he'd seen Sam and Dean in person. But they were doing okay, he knew that. Knew. It was still a little weird to feel that certainty. Like that was the weirdest part of his life now. Chuck’s fingers trembled.

 

Assimilating everything had been really exhausting. There’d been a few initial lapses into alcoholism. On the plus side, his writing had never been better and his sledgehammer headaches were a thing of the past. It turned out that being God didn’t so much fry his brain as kick him in the ass hard enough to literally think outside the box. And he was no longer so terrified of what he wrote that he felt the need to immediately soak himself in cheap liquor until he passed out and the words left him alone.

 

The words were good. The Word.

 

Chuck could hear Becky’s footsteps. He could also plunge into the dizzying spiral of her thoughts, her past, and her future, without any effort at all. Boundaries. Boundaries were good.

 

Ah, yeah. He still had to work out the best way to tell her about the whole secret identity thing. Convincing her wouldn’t be the problem. Becky was a born believer. His sons could learn a lot from her. Sons, he had sons. A small shadowed smile broke out across Chuck's face.

 

The truth was, Chuck Shirley was still very much in residence. It was just that literally everything else – the whole vast expanse of it all – was in there too. And it fitted. It was the right words slotting into place. This wasn’t one of his freaky dreams after too much processed cheese. This was real, it was him. And he was pretty much okay with that now.

 

“Chuck?”

 

Becky waved a coffee at him, the fumes snapping him out of his thoughts. He smiled like a reflex because it turned out that Becky had a really bright soul. Neon pink and it glowed almost constantly. Pretty. He had to stop staring.

 

“You're smiling again,” Becky noted, sounding pleased. “Did you finish your draft? Did you keep the second to last paragraph? The fans are going to freak about that cliffhanger. You need coffee, right?”

 

Sometimes, Chuck missed whiskey and beer and all his other liquid friends. But then he remembered the throwing-up afterwards and the horrible sticky positions that he'd wake up in and the always-disgusting taste in his mouth. He could live with coffee if he concentrated. “Thanks, Becky.”

 

Becky smiled at him – wow, pink flare-up – and put the full coffee mug down on top of his third draft. Her laptop was waiting on the couch and she had some sort of ribbon tied around her wrist that she adjusted as she sat down. She deserved so much more.

 

“Ah......Becky?”

 

She looked up, fingers poised to fly on the keyboard and her thoughts were even faster, looping through story ideas, comm mods, and if that comment last night was from who she thought it was, then they were going to get banned so fast. Chuck blinked hard. He could see spots in front of his eyes.

 

And feel nerves firing through him. She was going to hate him for…….everything.

 

That was probably why when he gestured, trying to find the vaguely right words to start the conversation with, a nearby lamp suddenly exploded.

 

Becky shrieked, diving to cover her laptop. She hadn’t tried to shield Chuck at all. If _Sam_ had been in the room, she'd have had different priorities. And that train of thought was just embarrassing.

 

“Chuck, are you all right?”

 

That made him feel better. If he didn't get a grip, he was going to lose any higher ground when he eventually talked to Zachariah.

 

Becky was giving him a worried look, her brain whirling for answers. The house was salted, it couldn't be a demon, she’d definitely have noticed the presence of any witches, and it wasn't an archangel's MO. Just how had Chuck made that happen anyway? That was when a lot of different possibilities started running through her head at a really impressive speed.

 

Chuck had just managed to distangle himself from Becky's octopus-like thought processes when she shrieked again and he instinctively ducked. He was really grateful that none of the Host were around to see that.

 

“Becky?”

 

She was on her feet, laptop safe apparently. Her eyes had widened and her thoughts were getting staticky, like what she was thinking was too horrible to even contemplate.

 

“Chuck, are you dead?”

 

Chuck coughed, snatched up his mug, and managed a mouthful of scalding coffee – instant healing, he'd gotten used to that part pretty quickly. “Ah, okay, no. It turns out, this is pretty funny actually, maybe. Anyway, it turns out that I'm......”

 

He paused, and the remains of the lamp instantly reformed back onto the table in full working order. Becky jumped. Her thoughts sped up again as she scrambled for answers, piecing together what she knew. She was making unusual but correct connections thanks to all that she’d learned from Carver Edlund. Wow, Chuck had forgotten just how much she did know and how well she'd assimilated it all. She always had been the fan on his official site that had regularly guessed his next plots the most accurately. It was a little awe-inspiring to see in action, especially when a single overwhelming thought started to take over with growing and alarming fervor. The number of _Oh my Gods!_ pounding through her thoughts was starting to give him a headache. Chuck braced himself.

 

Becky stepped closer and poked his chest experimentally. Chuck managed not to wince.

 

“It's a classic fan theory. The writer literally as the creator. _Literally_ literally,” Becky breathed, wide-eyed. “And then going incognito, as the last person anyone suspects? A secret identity? With archangels guarding your undercover self? The perfect place to hide? So overused. Oh, but it works.”

 

She raised her head to meet his eyes, her hand pressing at his arm insistently, wanting confirmation. Chuck cautiously nodded. The lamp turned itself off and on rapidly. Becky's expression changed and Chuck knew what was coming. This was the part he’d been dreading.

 

“Ah…..Becky, I'm.....”

 

“They've been through so much, and you were here, the whole time?” Becky’s voice was rising in volume, and in pitch.

 

Chuck flinched. Expecting this didn’t make it any easier to face.

 

“There was a timer,” he admitted, a hand scratching through his hair. “I wasn’t supposed to be gone so long. I was experiencing human life again and then Zachariah started a rebellion and I didn’t know who I was because that was kind of the point and……..Sorry?”

 

Becky glared, but she didn’t start shouting again. Chuck was more relieved about that than he should have been. This was getting kind of ridiculous.

 

“I know this is all a little…..weird. Understatement, I know,” he settled on. “And I’m sorry, really sorry.”

 

Becky looked like she was steeling herself, mouth slanting down. “Is Zachariah right? About there being no free will? About their destiny?”

 

“Oh! No,” Chuck tumbled out quickly. “I think maybe there’s some jealousy issues? Jesus always said that……”

 

He trailed off. Jesus. Something hard settled in Chuck’s throat that he couldn’t swallow past. Jesus, his Son. Right now, he was holed up, guarded by Grace and some really tricky angel-repelling wards. All part of the ‘in case of emergencies, hide here’ plan, because no matter what happened, Chuck couldn't lose his Son again.

 

Jesus was alone and he was safe and he was waiting. Chuck didn’t have the words to express just how much that sucked.

 

Becky’s eyes went big and round and she pressed a concerned hand to his arm. She wasn’t afraid, not even a little. Chuck sort of wanted to reach for her.

 

“Is he……?”

 

Chuck shook his head, unable to form a single syllable. His legs felt wobbly and then suddenly Becky was holding him tight against her in a hug. Chuck didn't react for a second, but Becky stayed there, firm and immovable, until Chuck started holding onto her just as tightly.

 

Becky was babbling something against his chest in a whisper that he could catch hold of if he wanted to. But Chuck let it slide over him and clamped his eyes shut. It was a little oasis that he hadn’t thought possible.

 

Her soul was soft and pink. She was a gift.

 

Then she took a step back. That look of steam-rolling determination was back, the one that meant serious trouble for anyone who even tried to stand in her way. Chuck tried hard not to back up.

 

“What’s the plan?”

 

“The plan?”

 

Becky glared at him. “To help Sam and Dean.”

 

Chuck winced. “Ah, well…….”

 

He knew it was coming but it was still painful to see the hurt, disbelief, and anger in Becky’s eyes. Chuck swallowed. He hated this part, every time. It felt worse somehow now, looking at Becky.

 

“I’m sorry, but I'm doing what I can,” he managed, something tearing at his insides. “Choice, free will, what you're all capable of, and the learning and the trying - I'm not going to take any of that away. I won't.”

 

He stopped, impossibly exhausted and gray. How long ago was it that he’d first had that argument with Lucifer, about the capacities of the human race and their worthiness? About the flawless and the flawed and the beauty in both? And about love? Had it been that long since Lucifer had stood in the Garden? Chuck wanted a whiskey, badly.

 

“But you brought Cas back. You could.....”

 

“I could.” He was gentle and careful now, needing somebody, really needing her, to understand. He risked touching her arm, holding on. “But I'm not going to be like my sons.”

 

He wasn’t going to make humanity’s choices for them, not even a little. He had faith in who they were, in what they could do. Another point Zachariah and Lucifer still couldn't grasp – that flawed didn't mean wrong. His heart ached. He and Becky looked at each other for a beat. Becky's mouth formed an 'o'. Chuck could feel some of the tension in him unwinding. Not all of it, because those were his kids out there and maybe he should have organized a babysitter when he and Jesus and Joshua had been planning this.

 

“Ooh!” Becky started suddenly, her thoughts making another quicksilver-fast leap that he couldn't catch hold of as she retrieved her laptop. He really ought to be used to that by now. “Sons, right. I think that morning emergency news report was about one of them, so I have to get a comment out before Cameron and Nate do and people start believing them again.”

 

“You do?”

 

Becky gave him a look like he had to be joking. Because he was God, and wasn't knowing everything a given?

 

“I’m….ah…..trying to stay off the whole mind-reading thing right now. Boundaries, you know?”

 

Becky looked flattered and started typing, her mouth matching her fingers for speed. “Okay, so after that ghost at the convention, we started a community for people who knew what had really happened. It was totally helpful to have somewhere to talk, you know? Somewhere where people don’t think we’re crazy. Then we got spammed by this other forum who claimed we were completely wrong so of course we got on their board and there was this huge trolling incident. But then apparently someone tried using Latin and salt when their daughter started acting really weird and then we got all these requests. So we got linked up with a lot of the other websites that have been talking about the weird stuff that’s been happening, you know, Apocalypse-weird stuff. They got so much wrong, there’s this theory about toads that you would not believe, and we knew that we had the real answers. So we started posting, like about that hinky report of the woman who went blind in Ohio? Totally an angel sighting.”

 

Chuck was getting a terrifying image of an army of laptop-wielding fangirls. He wasn’t sure Lucifer was prepared for that.

 

“Now, anytime there’s a report that sounds like a Sam and Dean case, we post what we know, right out of Carver Edlund. There's already a flame war with the Ghost Facers fanboard. They're sore losers because more people visit us.”

 

It all sounded so small, another crazy conspiracy theory about the end of the world. Becky had no idea what she could be starting, how big and important it could become – a civilian network that could eventually involve hunters, a research grapevine and a way to keep in contact that even the eventual breakdown of the internet wouldn't be able to stop. It could end with Becky and her friends dying horribly. That thought brought too much pain, along with the really strong urge to hide her. It wouldn't be the first time.

 

Right. Her choice. Free will. And it could save the world. His heart sort of burst. Having favorites always ended badly for him, and them. He shut his eyes, and wished hard for whiskey, again.

 

“Not a lot of people are going to believe you.”

 

“Maybe not at first. But if the Horsemen show up…..” Becky grinned at Chuck’s surprised look. “I read your drafts when you were asleep.”

 

Chuck wanted a drink, he wanted to hug her, and he wanted to hide her laptop. He was a little hazy about the order. He wanted to show her to Lucifer and say _this is why I love them._

 

Sam and Dean weren’t going to believe this. They weren’t going to know what hit them.

 

He looked towards his computer; he needed get started on that final story. Becky was tapping out something on her laptop. Chuck tore himself away with some effort. Boundaries, right.

 

Her soul was fluctuating between pink and purple. It was pretty hypnotic. Joshua would like her a lot. He'd laugh and say she was good for Chuck, that he'd been alone for too long. It was an old argument. She'd like Joshua's garden. Chuck was looking forward to that day.

 

“Chuck?” Becky was frowning at the pamphlets by his computer. “Should you have those anymore?”

 

Right. The ladies. Chuck flushed, coughed, and said pamphlets vanished quickly. Well, he'd wanted to experience human life in all its rich variety again. He was still glad he had.

 

Becky was typing with one hand, the other reaching for her cellphone. Chuck retreated to his computer, making sure his coffee was still hot and then sweetened it with some Jack. Old habits died hard.

 

He could feel the pinkish warmth of Becky's soul and he wanted to rest in it again, to enjoy her faith. She was murmuring as she typed, taking hold of and affecting the future without even realizing it. And yet she looked so fragile.

 

Stories were always being rewritten. He only had to write down one version. Chuck stared at his screen and lowered his hands to the keys.

 

 _-the end_


End file.
